


What To Expect When You're Expecting

by LogicGunn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: John’s seen all kinds of shit during his service, but the sight of Rodney stripped of his gear and t-shirt with his hand half way up the business end of an honest-to-god unicorn takes the prize.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 25
Kudos: 113





	What To Expect When You're Expecting

John’s seen all kinds of shit during his service, but the sight of Rodney stripped of his gear and t-shirt with his hand halfway up the business end of an honest-to-god  _ unicorn  _ takes the prize. 

“Rodney. What. The. Fuck?” 

Rodney doesn’t even look up at him, his eyes are shut and his entire focus is clearly on his hidden hand. “She’s in labour Colonel. The foal is stuck.” 

“And you’re...doing what exactly?” 

“Unsticking it, obviously.” 

John doesn’t know what he can say to that so he just steps out of the way and watches as people pass by between him and the...unicorn...Jesus. When Do’ran Asha’an, the chieftain of the Nuba’a, requested Rodey’s assistance he assumed it was with the plumbing installation that they were building in exchange for a quarter of their yearly harvest. Clearly there were some dinner conversations he wasn’t privy to the last time they visited.

“Colonel John,” comes a voice from behind. “You seem troubled.” 

“Do’ran Asha’an,” says John, plastering on a smile. “Everything’s fine.” He gestures at the unicorn. “I just didn’t know you had horned horses on this planet.” 

“Do you not have Astraad on your Earth?” 

“We have tales of Astraad. We call them unicorns.” 

“I like this name, unicorn. I will name the new Astraad ‘Unicorn’ in honour of Doctor Rodney’s help in birthing her.” 

“He’s...uh...doing his very best.” 

“I have faith he will succeed. Ah, Lady Teyla, Specialist Ronon.” 

Teyla and Ronon appear in time to witness the miraculous event, but neither of them is as stunned as John is by the spectacle before them. 

“Huh. Didn't think McKay was into that kind of thing,” says Ronon as he takes a bite out of some kinda not-apple. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” splutters John. 

“You know. Veterinarian stuff. He’s so squeamish. Didn’t think barnyard baby-catching was up his alley.” 

“Barnyard b-...up his-...where are you getting all of these phrases?” 

Ronon shrugs, and they all watch as Rodney bends at the knee a little and pushes his arm even deeper, twisting it for a better angle. John can't even imagine what he’s doing in there. The unicorn’s pale-golden coat is dripping with sweat from the exertion of labour and her pearlescent horn scrapes the ground as she ducks her head, but Rodney’s ministrations don’t seem to be bothering her too much. She flips her tail over behind Rodney’s back as he twists and pulls and braces himself against her rump with his free hand. 

“It is good to see Rodney broadening his horizons,” muses Teyla. “Although I admit I did not expect him to voluntarily assist in the birth of a child again. As I remember, the birth of Torren was a little intimidating for him.” 

“It’s good for him to get his hands dirty,” says Ronon around a mouthful of fruit. “Keeps him grounded.” 

“Indeed,” adds Teyla. 

When Rodney finally opens his eyes and cries out – _A-ha!_ \- half the village comes rushing out of their thatched dwellings to watch as he removes his arm, bringing out two tiny hooved legs behind him. John can’t look away, torn between fascination and horror, as Rodney starts tugging gently at the hooves. The villagers hold their collective breaths as the head crowns, then cheer and whoop when the foal is pulled clear of the mother and shows signs of life. Rodney tears off the placenta and the unicorn turns to nuzzle at her new-born, exhausted but obviously content to greet her child. 

Do’ran Asha’an leads the village in harmonious prayer, and John follows Rodney as he shuffles off to wash the birthing fluids off his arms downriver, holding his hands as far from his body as he can. “God, that’s cold. What I wouldn’t give for some hibiscrub. Do you think Carson would give me some?” 

“I think this comes under ‘dermal exposure to alien bodily fluids’, so yeah, probably.”

Rodney eyes John suspiciously as he scrubs at his forearm with silt. “’Dermal exposure’?” 

“Uh, the IOA sent me an email about health and safety and exposures in the workplace. Apparently being a full bird Colonel means I have to worry about contact dermatitis in my men. And women. People. Anyone in uniform.” 

“Well, that’s just...pfft...should be left to Carson.”

Rodney stands and brushes the water off his arms and body. John is tantalised by the droplets clinging to his chest and belly. If they were alone (and Rodney hadn’t just shoved his hand up a horse’s nether regions) he’d be licking them off by now. He reluctantly drags his eyes upwards. “You probably got that email too.” 

“Maybe. I don't read anything from the IOA. It spikes my blood pressure.” Rodney pulls his t-shirt over his head, still damp with water, then swings his Tac Vest over his shoulder and heads back to the village square. “Better check that everything’s okay before we go home. Wouldn’t want to dial in next week to find out I’m wanted as the killer of a mythical beast.” 

*** 

Back on Atlantis, Rodney starts quoting OSHA section 1910.1030 (Bloodborne Pathogens) at the post-mission medical check-up until Carson throws an entire bottle of hibiscrub at him to shut him up, but when he gets distracted by a nurse with a big needle – _Woah, careful where you’re sticking that thing; last time I had my blood taken my arm was dead for a week!_ – Carson quietly admits to John that he would have given him the bottle regardless because getting covered in equine amniotic fluid is just plain gross. 

“You did a good thing, lad,” says Carson when Rodney looks up from the needle in his arm, and Rodney preens like a peacock at the praise. 

“Well, I’ve done it before. So. Not that big a deal really.” 

Not that big a deal...John’s still grossed out by the memory of it. Rodney discreetly reaches for his hand when no one is looking, and John gives a high-pitched squeal and backs away. The duty nurse gives them a look, _the_ look, from the nurses' station so he shuts up quickly and glares Rodney down instead. 

“Don’t you dare touch me until you’ve showered and disinfected your whole body,” he whispers. 

“Fair enough,” whispers Rodney. “But I might need you to do my back.” 

When Carson clears them to leave, John pockets a few pairs of blue vinyl medical gloves for good measure. There’s no way he’s scrubbing Rodney’s back barehanded. 

“Shower,” he commands as they enter the transporter. 

“Yes, mom.” 

“I’m not thinking motherly things right now, Rodney.” 

Rodney taps the transporter screen. “What _are_ you thinking?” 

“Get in the shower and you’ll see.” 

*** 

As Rodney stands under the hot water rinsing  hibiscrub out of his hair John double gloves and grabs the bottle, scrutinising the label for effective contact time. “I didn’t think midwifery was a part of the Grand Unified Theory,” he says as he liberally spreads the pink, sweet-smelling gel all over Rodney's back and rubs his gloved hands over the skin. There’s something a little bit...kinky about touching Rodney while wearing vinyl gloves, and he feels his blood rushing South as he works the gel in. The expanse of Rodney’s back is pale and smooth and there’s little John loves more than to cover it in little bite marks, but he’s not going near it until it’s sanitised.

“Har-de-har Sheppard,” says Rodney as he stretches his arms out, touching the wall on either side. “I spent a summer working on a ranch. Had the skinniest arms of anyone there so I learned a new skill.” 

“That’s some skill. When was the last time you used it?” 

“That had better not be a dig at the time I assisted during Torren’s birth. He didn’t need any help. He pretty much made his own way out. I just caught him.” 

John snorts. “I think Teyla might have had something to do with it too, buddy.” 

“Yes, yes, she was all mother earth and stuff. She was pretty badass actually. Still, when she says it was worth it and she’d do it again in a heartbeat I don’t think I believe her. You’d have to be mad to do that twice.” 

“Well, she knows who to call if she does do it again.” 

“Hah! No. I’ll be unavoidably called to Earth for the entire duration of her next  pregnancy ,” says Rodney with the absolute confidence of a man with a plan. 

John snaps off the gloves and throws them in the bin. “There, you’re done.”

“Uh, finally.” Rodney closes his eyes and steps under the water to rinse off. “Do you think I could claim a new uniform on account of biological hazard exposure? Maybe I should just send it back through the stargate for the attention of General Landry in one of Carson’s yellow clinical waste bags. Do you think he’d give me one? Or I could just burn it...maybe it isn’t salvageable. What do you- Oh! You’re...very naked.” 

“Yup.”

“Uh...are you wanting in? I-I’m done.” They’ve been doing this thing for a couple of months now, and John loves how Rodney still gets flustered when he takes his clothes off. 

“Get back in the shower, Rodney, you’re not done.” 

“I’m not?” 

“Not even close.” 

John crowds Rodney into the corner and presses the length of his body against him. 

“Is...is this what I think it is?” asks Rodney, as John presses little kisses to his jaw and neck and licks the water off his skin. 

“Depends. If you think it’s shower sex then absolutely.” 

“Oh, God.” 

“How do you want it?” 

“Oh, Jesus.” 

John sinks to his knees, letting the water wash over him. When he looks up, Rodney's staring at him like he’s a brand-new, full-charged ZPM, blue eyes blown with arousal and hands grasping at the tile. 

*** 

The next evening Do’ran Asha’an dials Atlantis to invite the team to a feast in honour of Rodney's assistance. Never one to turn down free food, Rodney jumps at the offer, reiterating (for at least the fiftieth time) his allergy to citrus and all citrus derivatives, even though the planet has absolutely nothing resembling a lemon, a grapefruit, or an orange growing on it. 

“We have been very careful in our preparations,” says the Do’ran, placatingly. “We are ready to receive you.” 

AR1 gears up and dials out, and when they arrive on the planet there’s a large crowd waiting to meet them. It seems like the entire village is there, dressed up to the nines in furs and beads and feathers. A group of giggling young women bring a lei of brightly coloured flowers to adorn Rodney, and he stands there somewhat skittishly as they place it over his head. 

“I suppose it would be rude to point out my  hayfever ,” he says to John.

“You need not worry,” says one of the women. “We remembered that you are sensitive to pollen. The flowers are fabric, made of cut cloth scraps and plant dyes. And so you will be able to keep the wreath forever.” 

“Oh...wow...that’s-that’s great!” Rodney manages to sound sincere, despite the flush that’s creeping up his cheeks. 

“Come!” says the Do’ran, gesturing them to the village square. “We have prepared a feast!” 

The square has been turned into an outdoor banquet hall, tables heaving with food and drink and flower arrangements lying under a festive canopy of brightly coloured fabrics. At the far side are the unicorn and her foal, already standing on its own feet and feeding from its mother as she looks on at the festivities. Yesterday the foal had been covered in birthing fluids. Now that she is clean her coppery coat reflects the light, and her horn has already started to grow in. Thank goodness that doesn’t happen in the womb. 

Rodney is seated at the centre of the head table with  Do’ran on one side and the other members of the  Nuba’a council on the other.  Teyla sits on  Do’ran’s other side, then Ronon, then John, and John is glad to be close enough to overhear any conversation and keep an eye out for trouble, though they’ve been allied with the  Nuba’a for months now and they seem on the level. Even Ronon’s relaxed around them, enough to pile his plate high and fill his cup with wine, and Ronon really isn’t prone to getting  cozy off-world.

John turns to an old woman sitting next to him as he sips his wine. “Do you have many Astraad in the village?” 

“Oh, no, not at all. There are only a handful that I've ever seen, though there may be more – they tend not to come close to the village except to give birth. Their lifespan is great, some are many hundreds of years old, and the last recorded birth was over fifty years ago. It ended tragically, as I recall, neither the mother nor the child survived. This is a most joyous occasion. We are pleased that Doctor Rodney was able to assist.” 

“As are we,” says Teyla. 

There are dozens of different dishes on the table, fried vegetables and filled breads, salads and sauces. The  centerpiece is a large earthen cauldron filled with a hot rice dish, diced meat and vegetables stirred through it like a biryani. Plates are passed up and down the line so the  Do’ran can dish it out to everyone, and they tuck in when everyone is served and seated. Someone comes around with a fresh pitcher of wine and tops up John’s cup.

“This is a lovely meal, Do’ran Asha’an,” says Teyla. “Thank you for inviting us.” 

“It is our pleasure to host you,” says the Do’ran. He stands. “A toast, to our esteemed friends.” 

Everyone raises their cup at his words then takes a sip. Rodney catches John’s eye behind the Do’ran’s back, a little wine flushed and a lot coy, and John feels a heat pooling in his groin. A tipsy Rodney is an uninhibited Rodney, and an uninhibited Rodney is a Rodney with a plan. This can only be a good thing when he gets him alone later. 

“And a special course for Doctor Rodney, who has blessed us with his proficiency in midwifery. It is fortunate he was able to assist after our healer's untimely demise.” 

The Do’ran gestures to the side and a young, fecund woman in an apron crosses in front of the table carrying a dish with a large, gelatinous, grey mass on a bed of freshly picked herbs. She puts it down in front of Rodney, who pales at the sight of it. 

“Um...thank you, but...what is it?” 

“The lifeforce of the unicorn, of course,” says the Do’ran. 

“Lifeforce?” 

“The after-birth!” 

Rodney glances at John, mouth tight and eyes wide. “And I’m supposed to eat it?” 

“Yes, yes, you are the one who assisted the delivery, so you are the one who gets to eat the after-birth. Young Mar’a here has spent most of the day preparing it for you. From the womb of the Astraad and through the hands of an expectant woman, it is our thanks to you for the gift you gave us. There is no higher honour. It will endow you with great virility.” 

“Virility, right.” 

John thinks there is no way Rodney is going to manage to eat it, he’s a couple of palpitations away from manfully passing out, but Rodney picks up his knife and fork and slices a little off the side. Just a morsel. Barely a mouthful. He lifts the fork up and slides the placenta into his mouth. It looks suspiciously like he swallows it whole, but he makes a show of chewing and swallowing, then puts his cutlery down on the plate. 

“Thank you for this gift, Do’ran Asha’an, I am honoured.” He shoots a look at John. “I think it’s only right to share this gift with everyone, it wouldn’t be fair to keep it all to myself.” 

“A most generous offer, Doctor Rodney, and we thank you.” He gestures to the young woman again. “Mar’a, my dear, if you would divide the dish and serve it to all present?” 

Mar’a bows and picks up a knife from the table, slicing the offending organ into thin slices, then dispenses a piece to everyone, starting with John, Ronon and Teyla. 

*** 

“I can’t believe I ate that,” moans Rodney the second they step back into Atlantis. 

“I can’t believe you made us eat it too!” says John. 

“What was I supposed to do? Eat the whole thing myself?!” 

“You could have-” 

“How was the feast?” asks Elizabeth from the balcony. 

“It was most enjoyable,” replies Teyla with a pointed look at John and Rodney. 

“Yeah, except for part with the boiled placenta,” adds Rodney, ignoring  Teyla completely.

“Oh my.” Elizabeth grips the railing. “Did you...?” 

“Rodney ate some then shared it with everyone else,” says Ronon. “It made the villagers happy.” 

“I wasn’t going to be able to eat it all myself!” 

“First time you’ve ever shared your food, McKay,” says John, unclipping his P-90. “You really didn’t have to. That’s one culinary experience I’d have happily skipped.” 

“It wasn’t so bad. Kinda tasted like liver.” 

“Yeah, boiled liver.” 

“It was a lovely gesture,” says Teyla, diplomatically. 

“It’s been a long time since I ate placenta,” says Elizabeth. They all stop in unison and stare up at her. “What? It was a fertility festival in rural China. When in Rome...” 

John shakes his head. “Some traditions are best left to die.” 

“Totally ruined my appetite,” says Rodney. 

“It’s pizza night,” says Ronon, wiggling his brows. 

“Oh. Well. Maybe I have a little room?” 

John shakes his head. “You two are like bottomless trash cans.” 

“Elizabeth, would you care to join us?” asks Teyla. 

“I’d love to. I’ll meet you in the mess. You can tell me all about the feast.” 

Rodney and Ronon lead them to the armory, bickering about the best pizza toppings all the way. Maybe John will have a slice or two. There’s always room for pizza. 


End file.
